


Is anyone in this monastery heterosexual?

by samariumwriting



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Cross-Posted on Twitter, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Transphobia, LGBTQ Themes, Multi, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Trans Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23855956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samariumwriting/pseuds/samariumwriting
Summary: The short answer: no.The long answer: a series of ficlets focusing on all the inhabitants of Garreg Mach and how each of them, in their own way, are queer. Sylvain being seen on a date with a man, Caspar pushing himself too hard in training, Catherine pondering the possibility of settling down with a woman, and many other experiences in between.
Comments: 49
Kudos: 55





	1. Black Eagles

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series I've been working on over on my twitter - every day I took a name from a randomised list and wrote two pages in my notebook on something relating to a possible lgbt headcanon for that character. The series is nearly done now, but the first group where all students got a fic first was the Black Eagles, so I thought I'd start posting them!

“Lady Edelgard.” Conversations with her ‘uncle’ were never particularly high on Edelgard’s list of things she wanted to do. When he fronted his statements with a title? Well. She knew she wouldn’t be fond of what came next. “Have you given much thought to your...future, lately?”

The way he said it told Edelgard that he didn’t just mean something general; he was referring to something specific that he somehow expected her to be aware of. “I am constantly working towards the events of the coming months and years, yes,” she said, “but I imagine you have something in particular you wish me to consider?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Goddess, how she loathed him. She could practically feel the slime oozing off of him. “Of course, the years to come will feature many challenges for you as Emperor. As such, have you considered the issue of securing someone to inherit your position? I worry for your health in these precarious times.”

“I would remind you,  _ dearest  _ uncle, that my father, though increasingly ailing and of poor health, is in fact still alive. I have no wish to plan who shall inherit the throne after me when I am yet to inherit it myself.” In truth, she had given the issue much thought. She just couldn’t give her answer to Thales.

If she were to produce an heir to inherit the throne, she would be out of action for far too long. On top of that, she would become disposable, and if she were to fall then the child would be vulnerable to all kinds of things. Above all, she did not wish to see a repeat of what happened to her own father and her siblings.

On top of that, there was the issue of… Well, she didn’t really want to have a child. The idea didn’t appeal to her at all, and if she went into a relationship with the aim to have a child then that would severely limit her choice. And she wanted sorely to leave her options open in case someone she could not have a child with came along.

“A shame,” was Arundel’s only answer to her careful response. “You may have to consider it soon enough.”

* * *

Perhaps it was immature of him, but sometimes Hubert wished for something a little...more.

It wasn’t that the time and energy he put into supporting Edelgard was wasted - not at all, not even a moment of it. But it did require certain sacrifices, on occasion. Sometimes, those sacrifices were constant.

As Edelgard’s closest advisor and, dare he say it, friend, Hubert knew there were certain standards he had to meet. None of them were things that would make Edelgard think less of him, should he fail to meet them, but it was the area in which her feelings mattered the least.

If he was to always be at her side, one of the most important things for maintaining his position there was that he be palatable to both Edelgard’s allies and her enemies. If he gave them any excuse to get rid of him, they probably would - and if they could not, it would result in the alienation of people Edelgard may need to achieve her aims.

This meant that, from a young age, Hubert had accepted that he would likely never be able to marry. If he married below his station, it would cause scandal Edelgard could not afford. Yet if he married within his station, he would surely offend one faction or another.

And then there was the matter of a bearable marriage, which would cause ever more scandal. Hubert had no Crest to pass on, but for many of the noble families of Adrestia, that was a primary concern. He could not marry a man as fit his preferences, and as such he had long since decided he would not marry at all.

Still, sometimes he couldn’t help but watch couples pass, hoping that one day he could partake in even a portion of their happiness. He would take less than what many could afford if it meant he could have a little more than expected.

“What’s on your mind, Hubert?” Edelgard asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Nothing worth mentioning, Lady Edelgard,” he replied. She would feel terrible if he confirmed that he was somewhat limited alongside her, in some ways. She may not understand that this was truly a choice he had willingly made.

* * *

There was a whispering coming from outside her door, which really didn’t set Bernadetta at ease. She was meant to be meeting with Seteth and the others this evening, but since all the kidnappings she kept worrying that someone was going to attack her and take her away and no one would come looking because they’d just presume that stupid little Bernie-

Bernadetta caught her thoughts and stopped. This wouldn’t help anything. What she needed was to stand from her desk, walk to the door, open it, walk to Seteth’s office. It wasn’t hard. It shouldn’t be hard! It just was, because she was a good for nothing coward who couldn’t even be a good woman-

Nope. Nope, she was not going to think about it. She was going to think about the voices outside her door. Caspar, who was scary and loud but probably meant well, and Linhardt.

“I think we should bash the door down!” Caspar said. Bernadetta shrank away from the offending object. “Then she’ll come with us.”

“That’s far too much effort,” came Linhardt’s reply. “And I doubt Bernadetta would appreciate it. Maybe she’d rather be left alone.” Yes. Yes! Linhardt got it. At least someone here had even a grain of sense.

That was the small burst of energy she needed to propel herself towards the door and into an evening that would undoubtedly be hell but was unfortunately necessary. “I’m coming! Please don’t break my door down.”

“See, Caspar?” Linhardt quirked an eyebrow at them both, and Bernadetta quashed the thought that she was being laughed at. “I told you there was no need for that.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get going!” Caspar said. “I wanna get on with it! Seteth said he had something cool to show us and Claude said it was a book but I think it’ll be better. And it’ll be great, ‘cause Flayn’s back so he won’t be so stressed anymore.”

“Are you coming, Bernadetta?” Linhardt asked, cutting Caspar off.

“Yeah,” she said, managing a smile in return.

* * *

Ferdinand had received another letter from his father that week, asking him if he’d made any further progress on ascertaining if there were any women at the Academy he would like to take as his wife. His father’s reasoning was that he could have anyone he wanted, within reason; the future Prime Minister of Adrestia was a solid bet for any self-respecting noble family.

Personally, his father’s attitude towards the issue made Ferdinand want nothing less. He understood his duties, of course, but it made him feel a little as if all the students at the Academy were being moved around as if they were little chess pieces. How many were looking for marriage? How many of those actually wanted it?

“I’m not sure if we can have another tea date,” Ferdinand admitted. The man in front of him looked, frankly, heartbroken. Ferdinand couldn’t help but feel the same way. “I enjoy your company immensely, so perhaps we should continue as friends, but-”

“But someone else means more to you than me,” the man guessed, “so you’re breaking up with me.” Ferdinand wanted to shake his head, wanted to deny it in every way he could, but he supposed it was true. He cared more about what his father thought than he cared about the relationship itself.

“I have no wish to lose you,” Ferdinand emphasised. One might describe his tone as pleading, and he wouldn’t be ashamed of such a description. He really did value the time he’d spent with this man and regretted that it could not continue as he wished, but he really didn’t have a choice in the matter.

“You have to choose, Ferdinand,” came the firm reply. “Do you want me or not?” It wasn’t a fair thing to ask of him; he wasn’t in a position to even make one of the two choices presented to him. But he could understand that maybe his tea partner didn’t see it that way. 

“I understand,” he replied, trying to push aside the heavy feeling in his heart. “I truly am sorry it had to come to this. Know I valued the time I spent with you romantically, even if it is now at an end. I’m sorry.”

* * *

“What do you mean by ‘this is not appropriate attire’?” Petra asked, a firm frown on her face. The Church official in front of her spluttered and looked away. “There are many Fódlan customs I do not understand. Please, tell me.”

“Well, I suppose, normally young ladies such as yourself wear skirts rather than shorts,” he explained, “and normally whatever you wear to cover your legs would be...much longer.”

“Why?” she asked. She’d always presumed that Hubert and Edelgard’s propensity towards covering up was a preference rather than social convention. “Surely there is not much difference between a skirt and shorts.”

“Well, it’s a matter of your gender,” the man replied. “Men wear shorts or trousers, and women wear skirts.” Yes, that was a tendency she’d noticed, but that didn’t mean it made sense. She’d asked why, not what.

“The only difference between the garments is practicality and aesthetic,” she noted, “so why is my wearing of shorts inappropriate?”

The Church official scowled. “That’s just how things work,” he explained, except that didn’t explain anything at all. “It’ll be distracting for the men in your class. You should get something else on as soon as you can.”

Petra thought for a moment about the men in her class. Somehow, she didn’t think they’d be all that bothered by how much leg was hidden under her desk rather than her clothing. “If they are bothered, that is not my problem,” she decided. “That is their issue to sort out.”

The man looked at her again, opened his mouth, and sighed. “Alright,” he said. “I can’t really stop you.” And with that he let her be. Good riddance.

There were many strange and curious things about Fódlan, but this was something Petra could not summon up a desire to replicate. How so many varyingly tolerant and restrictive views on self presentation could flourish in the same place, she did not know. She only wished that people wouldn’t try and enforce their strange views on others.

* * *

“Right, okay, I’m ready for another round!” Caspar called, picking himself up off the ground. Ferdinand chuckled and readied his lance once more.

“Are you positive you don’t want to take a break?” Ferdinand asked. Caspar nodded, hefting the axe up a little further in his arms and ignoring the slight twinge in his chest; it was just a muscle protesting a little because he was tired. He could power through.

So they went another round, and then a fourth, and a fifth. Ferdinand won three times, Caspar two, and he was determined to at least bring it to a tie, even if his breathing was heavy and sweat was pouring off both of them.

But then, halfway through the sixth round, Caspar’s breath caught in his chest and suddenly his lungs screamed for air. “You win!” Caspar choked out. And then he went straight for the buttons on his uniform waistcoat and shirt. He needed to get his binder off.

“Caspar?” Ferdinand paused for barely more than a moment before he dropped his lance and rushed forwards to give him a hand. “You should have said something!” He chided, taking over from Caspar even though his hands were shaking just as much.

It took a few moments of slightly panicked fumbling with buttons and struggling with the straps on his binder (which, in hindsight, he’d forgotten to loosen before training), but eventually Caspar could breathe easily again. “Thanks,” he managed, shooting Ferdinand a smile. In return, he only received Ferdinand’s concerned look. “I swear I didn’t realise.”

“Fair enough,” Ferdinand said, still frowning, “but you have to get better at judging these things. Imagine if you had been on the battlefield; you would have been facing a real opponent, and they would have killed you.”

“It’s fiiiine,” Caspar said. “Lin always checks my binder and armour before I fight; I just forgot to this time.” He pulled himself upright again. “No harm done, though! So it’s all okay.” At that, Ferdinand looked a little more at ease. “So, pick up where we left off?”

“You are hopeless,” Ferdinand said with a laugh, returning his lance to the storage rack. “Absolutely not.”

* * *

As had been happening a little more frequently lately, Dorothea got a knock on her door when she was sitting at her desk in the late afternoon. “Come in!” she called, fully prepared to switch to trying to get whoever it was to go away as quickly as possible.

Instead, she was met by Petra, looking a little apprehensive as she stepped into the room. “I hope you are having a good evening, Dorothea,” she said. “I am sorry to bother you.”

“Oh, Petra, what a lovely surprise!” Dorothea replied, letting a genuine smile form on her face. Petra was such a sweetheart and absolutely put far too much pressure on her own shoulders. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Petra smiled hesitantly in return. “I wished to ask you about the words that someone used. I did not understand.”

“Of course!” she said. “But, Petra, don’t you tend to take these queries to the Professor?”

Petra nodded. “I do, but this was...the discussion mentioned you as part of the topics. I did not wish to spread the words to more, and thought you would have a liking to have knowledge of what others are saying.”

“Ah, that’s very sweet of you,” Dorothea replied. She heard plenty of unsavoury things that people said about her, and she was sure others did too, but she appreciated the sentiment.

“The person was saying that you… ‘swam on both sides of the river’,” Petra said. “But I do not understand; surely it is logical to swim on both sides, or you cannot cross. So it must be a saying I do not recognise.”

Dorothea tried not to laugh, but it was hard. The euphemism was ridiculous to the point of hilarity. “It’s just a saying, you’re right,” she explained. “They meant that when I go on dates, sometimes I go with men, and sometimes I go with women, or people who are neither.”

“Oh!” Petra said. “So the saying is accurate, then, because doing so is logical. You have more choice.”

Dorothea felt fine laughing about that, but she kept it gentle, and Petra joined in. “I think that’s a very good way to look at it,” she said.

Petra smiled. “Thank you for helping me understand,” she said, “though I...do not understand why it warranted specific comment?”

“Neither do I, Petra,” Dorothea replied. “I suppose some people just can’t keep themselves to themselves.”

* * *

“For the sake of preventing any...confusion,” their substitute teacher said, glancing guiltily over to Caspar (who was still glaring daggers at the poor teacher, who’s made the wrong assumption about the wrong person). “Would everyone just mind telling me what pronouns they prefer?”

The line of conversation passed around the room until it ended up at Linhardt, sat at the back so he could hopefully catch a nap without being noticed. “I don’t mind,” they said with a shrug.

The teacher looked momentarily confused. “Could you pick one for the sake of convenience?” he asked. He’d been noting them all down on a sheet of paper.

“That’s the opposite of the point,” he replied. “I don’t choose on purpose. How would  _ you  _ like to refer to me?” The rest of the class had now relaxed considerably in their seats. They’d all heard this a couple of times before, and had apparently collectively decided that this was going to be one of the awkward teachers.

“Well, I wish to refer to you by the form of address you wish to be referred to,” he said. Linhardt opened their mouth to inform him that he clearly wasn’t listening, but Caspar butted in.

“It’s a social experiment,” he explained. “Linhardt wants to see what you pick. Just pick something and be done with it; Lin won’t mind.”

“Caspar!” Linhardt protested. “Yes, it’s an experiment, but the whole thing is ruined if you inform people they’re being observed for something. It messes with the results.” With that, they turned to the teacher, who was looking thoroughly lost. “I can’t include you in the results, so we may as well get on with it. They and them are fine.”

“Alright,” he said, his slight frown lightening a little. “I’m glad we have that cleared up. If we could get back to historical battle tactics…”

Linhardt put their head on the desk. He’d read up on this two weeks ago and it wasn’t at all interesting. What was far more interesting was thinking about what that teacher might have chosen in the face of their indifference. The results of that experiment never ceased to surprise him.


	2. Church of Seiros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is Chunky bc it has the most characters! There were some really fun and challenging ones in here.

“The issue of ‘fraternization’ really isn’t that serious, you know,” Jeralt said, looking up at the young knight who’d come to him with…a report of intimate matters, so to speak.

“But Jeralt, sir, there are very strict rules about these kinds of things, and it’s bad for discipline!”

Jeralt shrugged. “What about a relationship between someone in the Knights and someone outside of them?” he asked. He knew the rules were stupid. It was time to show that to this man.

“Well, sir, that’s different, and follows-”

“How?” he asked. The knight stopped. “How is it different with someone outside the order?”

“Well, there’s no need for physical relations in shared spaces, and-”

“So they can go somewhere that isn’t a Knights’ shared space,” Jeralt said. “Didn’t you say you saw your comrades kissing in a tavern in town? That’s not a Knight space.”

“And if they split up, that would cause-”

“Problems?” Jeralt asked. The Knight nodded. “The same goes for if a Knight were involved with a member of Church staff.”

“I suppose, sir, but-”

“No buts, Arglas,” Jeralt said firmly. “Do you know what the rule’s original purpose was?”

“No, sir,” he said, starting to look suitably cowed.

“Well,” Jeralt said, “back when plague seized Fódlan regularly, there used to be laws restricting relations between people of the same sex. To promote the population and all that. When those laws were relaxed, the rule in the Knights, there because most of the Knights were male in those days, remained.”

“I...see, sir. But it is still against the rules-”

“Which is why I won’t punish you for talking about your fellow Knights like this,” Jeralt explained, “as long as you drop it right now. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” he said, thankfully looking suitably ashamed of himself. He left quickly, leaving Jeralt on his own again. He sat at his desk and sighed. A long time ago, he’d been the one having to defend the breaking of the rules. At that time, he hadn’t been in a position of power; he’d been the Knight caught with his lips pressed to those of another

That was many, many years ago now. Years before he’d even met Sitri. He’d hoped things would have moved on by now, but clearly they still had a way to go.

* * *

“Regarding taking on additional duties with students, I just thought I’d ask you again, Seteth, though I know what your answer has been in previous years,” Rhea said. Seteth thought back to all the requests from the past year, all the difficult conversations and things that simply could not be done.

It was always a challenging task, an extra burden on top of all his other duties. But, all the same… “You know my answer will be yes,” he said, and Rhea smiled. He did so love making her happy, at least when he could. “How many students do you think will be under my remit this year?”

Rhea paused for a moment, clearly running through the various students set to join the Academy that spring. “More than previous years,” she said. “I know of as many as five, and as you know, there are always more once the students actually arrive.”

“That’s a good number,” Seteth said. In the many years that had passed since the fall of the Nabateans, there had been...fewer people who saw the world and themselves like he did. And when those people did exist, they were often the victims of misunderstanding, wilful or not, that Seteth had never experienced as a child.

“It has the makings of quite a community,” Rhea agreed, a smile still on her face. “And I know I can trust in you to guide them, as you always have. I’ve told you many times before, but your experience in these matters is invaluable. I hope you know that.”

“Thank you,” he said. He always chose not to mention that he hadn’t always been here to help any students facing these difficulties. He sometimes hated to think of how these students had felt with no one like him around, but he supposed he could never really know.

Really, there wasn’t all that much point to thinking about it too much. It was in the past, and the most important thing was helping the students who needed his aid the most now.

And he really could help them. He’d found, over the years, that they appreciated his advice, his listening ear. Sometimes, students looked up to him as an example of someone like them who could do many great things. Knowing that always made the extra work worth it.

* * *

“I was curious about something I heard from a mercenary earlier,” Catherine said, sidling up next to Shamir in the dining hall that evening. “Mind if I ask you about it?”

“You’re going to ask anyway,” Shamir said, and okay, maybe he had a point. “Go on. Get it over with.”

“Well, the mercenary mentioned that, back in Dagda, he had two husbands?” Shamir snorted. “Why are you looking at me like that? Did I say something funny?”

“That mercenary is playing you for a fool,” Shamir said with a laugh. “Unless he got married twice and played the authorities for fools.”

“Sure, okay,” she said. Catherine thought about how easy it would be, relatively, to marry under the Western Church in Faerghus and then in the Eastern Church in the Alliance. It would be firmly against the teachings of Saint Seiros, but it would definitely be possible. “But he could just go to a church and get married to a man?”

“Naturally,” Shamir said, as if this wasn’t the most unnatural thing Catherine had ever heard come out of her mouth. “Though they don’t have churches in Dagda, so to speak. Why are you looking at me like that? Close your mouth, you’ll catch someone’s spit.”

Catherine pulled a disgusted face and closed her mouth. “Well, you can’t do that here,” she said.

“I know,” Shamir replied simply. “I’ve lived here for half a decade, Catherine, I know who can marry who. I presumed you were smart enough to know that wasn’t the constant.”

She supposed she did know, sort of, though she’d never really questioned it. Things were the way they were because Saint Seiros had decreed it so. Whether it was right or not? It wasn’t her place to even think about it. “It would be nice to have the choice, I suppose,” she mused.

Shamir looked at her with a strange expression on her face. Normally she didn’t pry all that much, at least not obviously, but this time… “Would you make the choice to marry a woman, if you had the option?” she asked.

“Perhaps,” she answered with a shrug. “If the right woman came along. Of course, she’d have to understand that my first priority is always-”

“Lady Rhea?” Shamir asked. Her face was blank, but there was a light tease to her voice. Whatever it meant, it had Catherine smiling back at her.

* * *

“Hey, Cyril, a second of your time?” It was Claude, again, because it always was. And Cyril would continue to give him the same answer he always did.

“I don’t really have a second, Claude,” he replied, moving to duck under the older boy’s arm. He had places to be, floors to mop. A hundred tasks to do that may not strictly be time sensitive, but they sure as Ailell wouldn’t finish any faster if someone was holding him up.

“A shame,” Claude said. “I have something I thought you’d be interested in, you see. Bernadetta has some distant relatives, you know the kind-”

He didn’t ‘know the kind’. “Get to the point, Claude,” he interrupted. “I have places to be.”

“Sure, yeah, you’re right,” he said, chuckling to himself. “Anyway, she has some relatives who sent her some men’s clothing. Things get mixed up with extended family and stuff. She was asking if anyone wanted to get better use out of it than her, so I thought I’d offer some to you. Are you interested?”

Cyril thought, for a moment, about refusing. He didn’t need gifts and he definitely didn’t need charity. That said...he looked down at the loose fitting tunic he was wearing. The one he had several identical copies of that covered pretty much but was, in essence, nothing.

He wasn’t a huge fan of noble kids and all their fancy clothes, but he could appreciate the idea of something with a different look, something that said ‘young man’ even if it said ‘young nobleman’ at the same time. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll take a couple things if they’re going spare.”

“I think Caspar was going to take something, but otherwise it’s all yours,” Claude said, and with the smile on his face, Cyril would guess that Claude was even happier than he was with the outcome of this conversation. Claude was a strange guy.

“Great,” he said. “Now can I get back to my work?”

Claude laughed and stepped aside. “Sure,” he said. “But Cyril?” He nodded. “If you ever want anything like this, just ask, okay? I’ve got your back.”

* * *

“Seteth, how do you deal with little girls being...difficult?” Seteth looked up from his desk to see Alois standing in front of him, looking a little embarrassed and decidedly frustrated.

“What’s the problem?” he asked. Alois didn’t often come to him for advice, even if he’d always emphasised that his doors were open to anyone in the monastery who needed it.

“It’s my daughter,” Alois admitted. “She’s hit the kind of age where she likes to object to parental authority, and as I’m not there...she keeps telling my wife that she’s ‘not her real mother’. I don’t know where it’s coming from, honestly. She’s normally such a sweetheart.”

Seteth frowned. He’d never had a problem even remotely similar to Alois’ with Flayn. She’d had rebellious moments by the handful, but she’d never pulled parenthood up on him or her mother. “I suppose the question to pose to her is who  _ is  _ her ‘real mother’, so to speak?”

Alois chuckled. “Well, she doesn’t have one,” he said. “It’s an excuse, but not a good one. It was never the cause of her throwing a little tantrum at all, I’d wager.”

Seteth chuckled with him. “What about her other father, then?” He didn’t know all that much about the life Alois led outside of the monastery, but it was hard to imagine him being on bad terms with the other father of his beloved daughter.

“He’s tried,” Alois replied, now laughing. “She said that she wouldn’t listen to him because he’s ‘not married to mummy’.” As he spoke, he raised his voice by an octave or two.

“I think she misses you,” Seteth replied, and Alois sighed.

“I was afraid someone else would come to that conclusion,” he admitted. “I don’t know how to explain to her that she can’t see me right now, but-”

“Why not?” Seteth asked, reaching for a fresh sheet of paper on his desk.

“The monastery is far too dangerous for a young child,” he said. “I grew up here; it’s not the safest of places.”

“I’m writing you a letter of leave,” Seteth explained. Alois startled, a bright smile on his face. “Visit her, Alois. Family is more important than us having access to even a skilled set of hands.”

* * *

“Mmm, it’s always swords, swords, swords with you, isn’t it?” Jeritza looked over to see one of the professors - Manuela, if he wasn’t mistaken. She always seemed rather curious about him, but he couldn’t quite tell if it was curiosity or suspicion. “Do you think about anything else?”

“Yes,” he answered, continuing to sharpen the sword that he presumed was the rationale for her questioning.

“Of course you do,” she replied. “Talented as you are, I’m sure you have better things to do thank thinking about the thing you teach.” He nodded. “So what kinds of things do you think about?”

“Men,” he said, saying the first thing that came to mind as his eyes drifted to a handful of knights. It was when Manuela laughed that he realised he’d made a mistake. He shouldn’t have said that; it would only invite questioning and a probable dose of ridicule.

But, to his surprise, that wasn’t what happened. “Honestly, Jeritza,” Manuela said between peals of laughter, “I didn’t quite expect your answer to be so normal. With that mask of yours, it’s so easy to forget you’re just a young man sometimes!”

Jeritza didn’t quite know what to say. He didn’t feel like a young man. “What do you mean?” he managed. Her answer, her whole reaction...people could be decidedly exhausting sometimes.

“Well, I only ever see you with a sword in hand,” she explained, “but really, you have feelings just like anyone else. Desires, too. You just work very hard to hide them.”

Feelings… “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” His desires were very limited, and how she understood his words was clearly very different to the reality of their meaning.

But instead of reacting with the apprehension she should have, instead of stepping down, Manuela laughed again. “I may not be all that old,” she said, which was strange - Jeritza was fairly certain she was at least middle aged. “But I’m older than you, I can say that for sure. I know what I’m talking about, even if you don’t.” He still thought she was wrong, but he wasn’t going to argue the point.

* * *

“There’s another letter for you, Professor!” Hanneman smiled up at the boy who was perched on top of the stool in front of all the post boxes. He knew there would be a letter waiting for him - there always was.

“Could you get it down for me, please?” he asked. The boy leapt from his seat to fetch the envelope, written on with the same colour ink as always. “Thank you. I’ll be back to post a letter tomorrow.”

“Of course, Professor!” he replied, taking his seat once more. “I hope your friend is doing well.” Hanneman only chuckled as he left the building. A friend. Indeed.

He supposed that yes, they were friends. Of a kind, anyway. Neither of them could really take the time to travel and enjoy each other’s company in person, so they kept up a sort of companionship through letters. Maybe companion was a better word for what the letters’ sender meant to him.

Or perhaps...Hanneman had heard some call their companions ‘partner’. The two of them had never worked as a pair, but Hanneman tended to work alone anyway. Partner could work, though. It felt right; they were a pair. A couple, even. United in a joint desire to understand each other better than anyone in the world.

It was difficult to describe, especially to the young boy who worked daily shifts in the post storage. If he were ever asked - though the boy never would ask, he was far too polite - he supposed he would explain it as if… Alois had a wife. Hanneman had the partner he wrote to, and they knew each other intimately. Yes, that would get the message across well enough.

That was enough wondering for the day, however. There was no sense in overthinking the nature of his longest, dearest relationship. It would only weaken what was, quite honestly, the best moment of his week.

As he made his way back up to his quarters, Hanneman passed Shamir on the stairs. “You’re smiling a lot, Professor,” she commented. She looked down at the letter in his hands. “Good news?”

“You could say so,” he replied. Every letter from him was good news, really.

* * *

“Okay, Shamir, I’ll bite.” Jeralt was a good commander - fair, stern, but also decidedly familiar with the people he worked with. Now, sitting at a table with him in the tavern, Shamir wondered how familiar she should act in return. “You’ve been in Fódlan for a few years now. Is there anyone you’re fighting for?”

“The knights?” she suggested. Jeralt chuckled, but rolled his eyes. “I swore allegiance of sorts to Rhea, if that’s closer to what your vague question was referring to.”

“Ah, you didn’t strike me as someone who had that in common with Cass- Catherine,” Jeralt mused, and Shamir snorted. “Perhaps not, then. Excuse me for prying, but I like to know what drives my people. If there’s anyone they fight to protect. Kids, family, a partner…”

“No one,” Shamir replied firmly. She understood the need to know, but she still didn’t appreciate the prying.

“So I don’t need to worry about you eloping with a beautiful woman?” Jeralt asked. Shamir raised an eyebrow, and he nodded. She wasn’t sure what he’d just agreed with, if that was even what the gesture meant. “You’re absolutely sure? I did some illicit courting myself, back in the day.”

“I’m sure,” she replied. There was no one. Not anymore, at least.

Her thoughts must have shown on her face, because Jeralt’s expression softened and his voice lowered, granting them relative privacy. “How old were they?” he asked.

“Twenty,” she replied, and Jeralt hissed in sympathy. “It was years ago now. You don’t have to treat it like that.”

“Of course,” Jeralt said. “Again, I’m sorry for prying. That said, if it’s been that long, I don’t think either of us can say for sure that you won’t run off with the next pretty man or woman who shows up at the monastery.”

“Worried about your child?” she asked, watching as Jeralt first spluttered into his mug and then let out a loud laugh.

“No offense, Shamir, but I don’t think you’re By’s type,” he said. “But I take your point; I’ll stop prying. And if you do happen to run off with a handsome individual, I’ll wish you the best of luck.”

* * *

“Hello, Flayn,” Byleth said, watching as the girl’s face lit up at their greeting. “I happened to overhear a conversation of yours earlier. Do you mind if I ask you about it?”

“Of course, Professor!” Flayn replied. “Go ahead. You can ask me whatever you wish.”

“Well,” they started, thinking of the best way to word it without inadvertently insulting Flayn or her father. “I saw you attempting a conversation with Sylvain earlier.” Flayn pulled a face. “And I was wondering about what you said about your brother disliking you interacting with men. How do you feel about that?”

“Why, it is positively infuriating!” Flayn replied, her cheeks puffing up a little as she vented her anger. “My brother has no right to restrict my actions in such a way. However, I do understand that he worries, so I will follow his advice as long as it pleases me.”

“Until someone you want to talk to shows up?” they guessed, and Flayn nodded, her eyes alight.

“In truth, I have never felt the way for a man that my brother fears,” she explained. “But one day I imagine I will.”

“You don’t have to,” they interjected. There were plenty of people who felt little in the way of romance, and if Flayn turned out to be one of them, they didn’t want her getting hurt.

“Oh, I know!” Flayn replied, a cheery smile on her face. “Don’t you worry about that, Professor. I know plenty about how attraction can work, but I am sure that my time will come. It may just take a while. And if it does not come, then I am happy for my brother to use that to allay any fears he may have for my safety.”

“That’s a very mature way to look at it,” they commented, knowing full well that Flayn was mature in many ways they were yet to see. “I think there are a lot of people who could benefit from taking that attitude themselves.”

When she replied, Flayn’s voice was filled with pride. “Thank you, Professor,” she said. “I suppose I am lucky that I was brought up the way I was, even if my brother is far too protective of me. He has, at least, a fine outlook on these things.”

* * *

“You need to take this once every week,” Manuela instructed, handing the young man four bottles - in the past, she’d given out larger amounts, but of course students went straight for taking said large amounts because they wanted the effects to come sooner. “If you forget, don’t worry - just take it when you remember to, and come back when you’re out.”

“Thanks so much, Professor!” he replied, eagerly taking the bottles. His ill-fitting uniform sleeves slipped down his wrists, and one bottle slid out of his grip before smashing on the floor. “Ah, Goddess, I’m so sorry!”

“No worries,” she replied, though she dreaded cleaning the inevitable stain up later. For now, though, she rose, fetching another bottle from the shelf. “Go carefully, okay?”

The student shot her a bright smile and practically skipped from the room. A moment later, he popped his head back in and grinned. “Thanks again, Professor. You, uh - this helps. A lot. I don’t feel so alone anymore.”

“You’re less alone than you think,” she replied, looking at the shelves full of copies of the medicine she’d just handed out. “Have you spoken to Seteth about this?”

“Not yet…” he replied. Clearly someone had already told him he should. “I’ll do that now. Thank you again.” And then he was gone.

Manuela smiled to the empty room, even as she went to get a mop and brush to clear up the mess. Less alone indeed. When she was his age, it had felt like there was no one in the world who would ever understand who she was, how she felt. Seeing the way students at the Academy could connect better with others and their own feelings brought her no small amount of joy.

Because she wasn’t alone, and neither were they. All across Fódlan, there were people who understood, who wanted to help. Manuela no longer told anyone the “truth” of her body (though she always preferred to see it as a lie she had now corrected), but if students could see her as a willing helper and a listening ear, that was plenty enough for her.

* * *

It was strange, watching the ages go by and seeing how many things changed, how many stayed the same. So many aspects of her family, her people, fell into obscurity. There were things she knew she would never see again, concepts no one would ever discuss.

But some of the strangest things remained. Even in a world where, for their own safety, Rhea had taught the people black and white morality, some people refused to make a choice. They would steer clear of ‘choosing’ male or female. They would state their attraction for both, for all. It was strange, though not entirely unwelcome.

Rhea had assumed that, in this new world, she would be alone in being able to care for anyone. To be able to look past gender and see the core. After all the cruelty of war and conflict, she had foreseen that no human would ever be able to love so effortlessly again.

But, as always, people had other plans. Try as she might to keep them safe, they continued to grow until they outgrew the roles she’d set up for them.

She didn’t mind exactly, though as with all changes it brought more diversity, more strife, and more pain. Seeing them grow and change was an ill omen for the future, but in turn it had many benefits.

Rhea saw people who, in another time, would have been miserable their whole lives. But in a more accepting world, they lived fulfilling, happy lives full of love and brightness. Seeing such things gave her happiness for herself, if only for a short time.

Once the happiness faded, she was left with a sense of longing. She could not experience a life like that, not anymore. For her, there was only the burden of her many years, a sad state of affairs that put leagues of distance between her and the rest of the world.

Sometimes, she wished she could share in the benefits of a widening world. But while it brought others happiness, Rhea knew it only brought her closer to her doom.

* * *

“You know, Gilbert, it wouldn’t kill you to loosen up a bit sometimes,” Alois said. “Enjoy life a little. You’re not an old man, there’s plenty of life left in you yet!”

“I am not entitled to enjoying everything the world has to offer,” Gilbert replied heavily. “I have my duty to the archbishop and to the Goddess, and I require nothing more.”

Alois frowned. “And those are very admirable things to devote yourself to,” he conceded. “But they’re not the only things in life, and sometimes it helps to have something to look forward to.”

Gilbert fixed him with a look, and Alois got the feeling that he actually didn’t really want to hear what he had to say in reply to that. Talking with Gilbert could be downright depressing at times, if he was being honest. “Alright,” he said. “I know where you’re going with this. But aren’t there things you had fun with alongside your duty in the past?”

“When I was young, perhaps,” Gilbert forced out, as if ashamed to admit that he hadn’t been this dry his whole life. “Trainee knights do all sorts of things when they do not know the consequences of their actions. I’m sure you know what I’m referring to.”

“Oh, I absolutely do!” Alois said with a chuckle. “But now I’m dying to know, Gilbert. What  _ do  _ trainee knights of the Kingdom get up to in their precious spare time?”

Something lit up behind Gilbert’s eyes. “We’d go out into the city,” he said, a wistful note to his voice. “We spent a lot of time fooling around with the locals who matched us in age.”

“Fooling around, eh?” Alois asked, thinking of all the times he’d done the same in half the villages he’d aided across Fódlan. 

“Yes, fooling around,” Gilbert confirmed, the harshness returning to his tone. “It was silly, when it came down to it. All those young women, those men…”

“Did you have fun?” Alois asked.

“Well, yes, but that is hardly the-”

“Yes, there’s the issue of some neglected duty, but it’s in the past now,” he said firmly. “If you can look back on it fondly as something that was fun, I’d wager it was a fantastic use of time.”


	3. Ashen Wolves

“You’re looking good, Yuri,” Catherine commented. He hadn’t spoken to her since arriving back on the surface, but he was honestly surprised there were no hard feelings between them. She’d basically arrested him, after all.

“What do you mean?” he asked, eyes narrowing a little. He did not want her flirting with him; in hall honesty, it’d be weird. “I always look good.”

“Mmm, sure you do,” she replied, but her smile was good-humoured. He could respect her ability to forgive and forget, if nothing else. “I meant that you seem a lot more confident now than you did a couple of years ago. I didn’t mean anything by it, if that’s what you were worried about.”

Yuri had always thought he’d given off a fairly confident persona when he was at the Academy - intelligent, very much deserving of his position, charismatic… in reality, he’d feared for the security of the space he’d carved out for himself, and it  _ had  _ fallen out from under him, so he’d been right to worry. “I didn’t realise I’d come off as anything but confident,” he said.

“Oh, completely the contrary,” she said with a laugh. “Sure, you always talked big, but lots of students did. I always thought you were very shy.”

Yuri thought back to the handful of dates he’d risked going on as a student. The conversations about his body he’d had to constantly talk himself into - and out of - depending on the person he was interacting with. “I wouldn’t say I was shy, exactly,” he said, though maybe that was how his frequent worrying about everything social had appeared.

“Coulda fooled me,” Catherine said. “But that’s not the point - the point is that you seem a lot happier now. More put together.”

Yuri thought of the experimental surgeon down in Abyss. The people who he knew would always protect him, always make an effort to understand him, even if he thought they shouldn’t. Yes, he probably did seem happier. He was.

* * *

As the time the outsiders spent in Abyss wore on, more and more of them ended up in the classroom every evening. With that came conversation, and with conversation came- “Me?” Edelgard asked, a note of incredulity in her tone. “Honestly, Dimitri, I don’t remember this at all, but I thought your tastes were a little more...masculine.”

Dimitri was flushed a bright pink colour. “I was only a child!” he objected. “I had no idea about any relation between us and I hadn’t yet realised-”

“It’s okay, Dimitri,” Yuri said, slapping Dimitri on the back. “We all have embarrassing crushes. Why, Balthus here has quite the thing for older women!”

“It’s not just-” Balthus protested, but he was cut off by peals of laughter.

“No, of course,” Constance said, joining in with what had apparently become ‘make fun of Balthus time’. “It’s not just older women; you’re happy to spend your time with older men too.”

Claude, the dastard, leaned in with a wicked grin on his face. “Go on, then,” he said. “Balthus! Fuck, marry, kill.” Balthus watched as Dimitri, despite having recovered a little during his reprieve from teasing, turned a bright crimson. “Manuela, Seteth, or Alois?”

“Claude!” Ashe spluttered. “I hardly think that’s appropriate.”

“Absolutely not,” Yuri said with a grin, “but Claude here has the right idea. You can say things down here and it won’t go to the surface. Right, Professor?” Byleth raised an eyebrow, but after a moment they nodded.

“Go on then Balthus,” Linhardt chimed in. Balthus could have sworn he was asleep, but okay. Sure. “You didn’t answer the question yet.”

“I’m not going to,” he said firmly. “I know I may not look older than the rest of you - why are you looking at me like that, Hapi? That’s not fair. Anyway, the point is that you lot are kids. You don’t need to know what I think about everyone’s favourite verdant-haired stud.”

Hilda started cackling. “I think that says it all!” she crowed, and he sighed. At least he’d steered the conversation away from more unsavoury topics. He didn’t want to know what Holst would do if he heard that Balthus had talked about the allure of sex with Alois. Yikes.

* * *

“Ugh, noble fool,” Constance complained, watching the man’s retreating back. She hadn’t asked for his opinion on her dress, yet he’d somehow felt the need to approach her with foul words about its cut.

“Hmm,” Balthus replied. “I thought you were big on all things noble.”

“Absolutely not!” she protested. “I cannot stand the likes of him. I am proud of my own house and duties, not currents like that which run through the whole system, turning it sour.”

“Makes sense,” he replied. “I knew a couple bad apples myself, honestly. Jealousy, paranoia...a downright obsession with breeding and everything that comes with that.”

Constance groaned. She knew exactly the sort; clearly nobility were much the same over the border in the Alliance. “Breeding  _ is  _ important,” she said, “but not in the way that man seemed to be thinking of it. It’s important that your partner should be willing and ideally not a shameless creep.”

Balthus chuckled at her rising tone. “And you weren’t willing and he was a creep.”

She nodded. “I’m glad someone gets it. I would never be interested in the likes of him.”

“He was definitely a character, and not in a good way,” Balthus agreed. “But I guess you’re more interested in a guy with some manners, right?”

Constance laughed; she couldn’t help it. “Remind me how long we’ve known each other, Balthus?” Balthus just stared at her, a slightly puzzled look on his face. “I’m not interested in men.”

“Oh, right, of course not!” Balthus said, letting out a slightly sheepish chuckle. He’d clearly forgotten. “Yeah, you’d mentioned that before. I guess that guy wasn’t thinking about that aspect at all.”

“Men rarely do, apparently,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him. This time, Balthus laughed. “I doubt he would have acted that differently had he known, honestly.” It was a decisive flaw in the nobility, and a true shame.

* * *

“They’re an interesting group, aren’t they?” Yuri mused, coming up behind Hapi as she watched the students in front of them. “Very bright, very...diverse. A far cry from the students I studied alongside at the Academy.”

“I’m sure it would be hard to meet your standards of colourful,” Hapi noted, and Yuri hummed in agreement. “Though from what you said about the people you attended the Academy with, being more interesting than them doesn’t sound hard.”

Yuri chuckled. “They were all very...hmm, what’s the right word? They stuck to traditions, worshipped the status quo, and they were all, well-”

“Straight?” Hapi suggested.

Yuri’s reply took the form of bright peals of laughter, causing a handful of students to look over, clearly curious about what was quite so funny. “I suppose so, yes,” he said. “They were all rather dull, and clearly couldn’t quite bring themselves to accept people who were at all different from them.”

“They attend the same school, sleep in the same rules, study from the same books,” Hapi said. “You don’t think that, deep down, they’re still the same?”

“Some of them are, probably,” Yuri agreed. “There are plenty of people who can’t quite shake where they come from. But I’d say this lot are more likely to than any of the students from my year. I’d wager those petty lordlings are off taxing the poor dry as we speak.”

Hapi nodded. “That’s beyond doubt. Sometimes, I think all these nobles don’t quite realise there’s a world beyond their prejudices which is a whole lot nicer than all their rules.”

Yuri sighed. “Too true,” he said. “The problems are real enough; prejudice would hold either of us back in their world. And yet the cause of it is their own families, and the systems they’d fight to protect.”

“It’s good to be here in Abyss rather than up there,” Hapi said. “Even if this lot are less straight than the average group of them.” She didn’t think she’d be able to stand living with all their worries. Wondering if the next stray glance at a woman would be the cause of a lifetime of blackmail. No, actually, she liked Abyss just fine.


	4. Golden Deer

“I swear, I’m not up to anything!” Claude objected, throwing his hands up in the air. Skies above, some people had no manners. And no sense. “I have money in my wallet and I’m here to collect goods for one of the Professors at the Academy.”

“Sure you are, miss,” the man said, and Claude desperately tried to suppress the twinge in his heart. He couldn’t get emotional; it would only make this worse. “Run along, okay? And I won’t report you to the knights.”

There was nothing to report, but fine. Claude was perfectly happy to take his money elsewhere, until- “How dare you turn him away?” a voice asked.

Claude turned around to see Lorenz. Great, just what he needed at a time like this. “It’s fine, Lorenz. I was just leaving.”

“Absolutely not,” Lorenz replied, his eyes ablaze as he turned to the shopkeeper. “Claude may be a suspicious looking individual at the best of times,” he explained. Claude rolled his eyes. “But you should not turn a customer away for the simple fact of his demeanour.”

“It’s fine, Lorenz,” Claude said. “I’m picking up a shipment of ordered goods that hasn’t been paid for yet. If he wants to turn me away, it’s his loss.”

Lorenz sniffed, but he let Claude leave the shop, following him shortly afterwards. “I don’t know why on earth you let people walk all over you like that,” Lorenz said once they were back out on the main street. “You are the son of the Duke - letting people see you as a petty thief is simply beneath you.”

“It’s fine,” Claude repeated. “He lost out in that encounter. Sometimes you have to let people throw stones so they can smash their own windows. His judgement was off, and he’ll pay for that.”

“He truly did not have his head on in the right direction,” Lorenz observed. “I mean, imagine! Looking at you and calling you ‘miss’. Preposterous.”

Claude let out a chuckle. “Yeah, maybe his eyesight was bad.” Lorenz’s fervent agreement made him feel a little warm inside. That, at least, was reassuring.

* * *

“Gosh, it’d be a huge shame if a fragile gal like me had to lift all this on my own,” Hilda said, hopefully eyeing up various people scattered around the courtyard.

Sure enough, one of the women who was apprenticed at the blacksmith’s met her eye and wandered over. “Need a hand over here, lass?” she asked. Hilda’s eyes drifted to the woman’s biceps. Yep, she could definitely help with this.

“Oh, would you mind?” she asked, shifting the boxes in her arms and setting them down on the ground. “You’re so kind, thank you so much!”

“It’s no problem,” she replied. She was blushing a little, which was kinda cute. Maybe she wasn’t used to compliments, which was an absolute crime. She was pretty. “I wouldn’t want a gal like you spraining a muscle.”

“Ah, that’s really sweet of you to say,” Hilda said, carefully taking the lightest box from the pile. “Whaddya mean though, gals like me?” She caught the woman’s eye and smiled a little.

“Oh, you know,” the woman replied, flexing before crouching to pick up the rest of the boxes. She made a show of how easy it was, and Hilda smiled sweetly back at her. She was getting a little warm. “A little bit soft, sweet as sugar and strawberries on a summer’s day.”

“You are  _ such _ a flatterer,” Hilda replied with a giggle. She’d never really gone for serious flirting with a woman before - it was always about making the women who spoke to her feel good.

“Aw, miss, I’m only telling the truth,” she said, carrying the boxes through to the Academy. “It’s not often that a pretty lady pays me so much attention.”

And, okay maybe Hilda was realising that maybe she was sort of attracted to women. Just a little bit, when there was someone who was all smiles who said the most perfect things. “I’m sure I could pay you a bit more attention as thanks for your help,” Hilda suggested, and the woman’s face lit up in a smile. 

It hit Hilda right in the heart, and she could feel the blood rushing to her face. Goddess. She was never gonna hear the end of this from Claude.

* * *

“Raphael, are you sure you don’t want my fashion advice?” This was probably the fourth or fifth time Hilda had asked that day alone. “It’s just that you did all that heavy lifting and I feel bad for offering you nothing in return!”

“I told you, Hilda, if you really wanna offer me something in return - and you don’t have to, you were injured and it was no problem for me - then I don’t need any fashion advice. I’m not interested in all the stuff you said it would bring.” Girls, she said. Girls love big muscles, but not if he dressed like he did.

“Ohhh!” Hilda said, understanding dawning on her face. “Well then, men might not  _ say  _ that they prefer their partners to be well dressed, but they definitely do. And I’d say I’m better at knowing what attracts men, but then again, I think someone who went for me and someone who went for you might have different types…”

“Hilda,” he said evenly. She nodded and smiled brightly. “I appreciate the thought and all, but I meant what I said before. I’m just not interested in that kind of thing. Sorry.”

When Hilda nodded in return, she didn’t look all that disappointed, which was a plus, he supposed. Normally people got all up in arms about this sort of thing. “Then I apologise,” she said. “I just didn’t realise, Raphael! I’m really sorry for bothering you about it.”

“It’s fine,” he said. Honestly, Hilda’s reaction was about as much as he could hope for. Plenty of people would assume that he was already interested in someone specific - they liked to imagine the person was unattainable, in a romantic hero sort of way.

“It must be sort of nice, not really caring about this stuff,” Hilda said. “Way less of a hassle. Goddess, all the jealous suitors I could have avoided if people were just a bit more like you…”

She laughed, and Raphael laughed with her. He wouldn’t exactly call it convenient to just not have that form of connection with people. He always felt like he was missing out on something he didn’t really know how to miss. “You could say that,” he said. Even if Hilda had missed the mark just a little, the nice sentiment stood: maybe it would be good if people cared a little less about romance.

* * *

“Goddess, I just don’t...get it,” Lysithea said, throwing her hands up as she stared at the text in front of her.

Claude, ever a demon who could sense a teasing opportunity a mile away, popped his head around the door. “Something the matter, Lysithea?” he asked.

Lysithea waved her hands in the direction of the book. “I didn’t understand some of the content in that optional literature class,” she explained, “so I told the Professor, and they gave me this book, but its contents don’t make sense.”

Claude lifted the book from its space on the desk and glanced at the cover before bursting into laughter. “Goddess, I didn’t know Teach had such a sense of humour,” he said. “This is gold.”

“What do you mean?” The book was dense, scientific, and didn’t match up to the things Lysithea had experienced herself. That was all. So why was Claude laughing?

“Lysithea, this book is on puberty.” Yes, she knew that. “I think the Professor is insinuating that you haven’t been through it, so you wouldn’t get the emotional stuff in the book we were looking at. It was a coming of age novel, after all.”

Ah. “Well, I suppose that makes sense,” Lysithea said. “But the book still isn’t right, and I’m old enough to have been through puberty. I’m not a baby.”

“I know, I know,” Claude said with a chuckle, and then he frowned. “But if you don’t get this...how old are you, Lysithea?”

“Fifteen,” she replied. “And a half!” Claude laughed again. But he knew how old she was already. So why was he checking?

Claude shrugged. “And it doesn’t make sense because it doesn’t match with your experiences?” he asked. Lysithea nodded, glad he hadn’t questioned her ability to understand the science in the book. “Well, sometimes things don’t happen the same way for different people. Especially when it comes to tricky body and gender stuff. It probably just happened differently for you.”

* * *

“So when you, ah, liaise with men-”

“L-liaise?” Ignatz asked, his face flushing a bright red. “I think you might have the wrong idea about what I meant, Lorenz. Sorry.”

“No, I am absolutely positive,” Lorenz said. “You go on dates with men, correct? And you’re attracted to them?” Ignatz nodded. “Then you have the answers I’m looking for. What is it like?”

“What do you mean?”

Lorenz lowered his voice in a way Ignatz would almost describe as conspiratorial. “What does it...feel like?”

“Hmm, I hadn’t really thought about it,” Ignatz admitted. “I just...know, I suppose. It’s the same as wanting to spend time with a girl.”

“Impossible,” Lorenz said. “The act of consorting with a woman must be vastly different. The issue of temperament, the future-”

“Pardon me for saying it, Lorenz, but I think you’re overthinking it,” Ignatz said. “I mean, I’m no real expert at dating, but I’m not terrible at it either. And I promise you, it’s the same kind of feeling.”

“Which is…?” Lorenz sounded almost hesitant. Ignatz couldn’t help but wonder what was behind these questions, but if he  _ could  _ help then he’d do his best to.

“Well, I guess you feel warm around someone you’d like to date,” he tried. “Like you can’t stop thinking about them, and you really want them to like you in return. Sometimes it’s more like...longing glances, or envy at the way others interact with them easily. That’s how I feel about men I want to date. Does that help?”

Lorenz’s face, normally fairly composed, had gone a bright pink colour. “Yes, Ignatz,” he said. His voice sounded tight. “That helps a lot. Thank you.”

It was...strange, Ignatz supposed. Lorenz was normally so utterly focused on women; he had no idea why he’d want to know- unless. Oh. “Well, I hope you sort it out with him!” he said.

Lorenz went scarlet and started spluttering. “I have no idea what you’re trying to imply there,” he said, but Ignatz just smiled. He knew he did.

* * *

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, finally turning around to look at the poor vendor who’d been trying to attract her attention for the last couple of minutes, “but there’s not much use in marketing to me as a young man. I’m a woman.”

“Ah, sorry miss!” the vendor replied, but the damage had been done. Yes, getting a deal out of someone who thought they’d offended her was probably easier than getting one from a stranger, but…

Well, Leonie would be lying if she said it didn’t sting a little. She was wearing a skirt! Gender coding was one of the many evils of society, but it was at least meant to help people understand that she wasn’t a man.

But no, people saw her broad shoulders and short hair and made their assumptions. And yes, maybe she wasn’t the most feminine person at the Academy - that award would have to go to Hilda, even if she put half of it on - but it wasn’t like she was super masculine either. She felt like she fell somewhere a bit closer to the middle.

Still, it was frustrating. There were elements of the way she looked that she just couldn’t control. She had to give her hair time before it got longer - it had grown quite a lot from the cut she’d had for most of her childhood, but it still wasn’t anywhere close to how she wanted it to look.

Leonie tried to push her hurt down as she went to find another stall. It wasn’t her fault that people saw her the way they did. It wasn’t the vendor’s fault that he hadn’t translated the way she presented herself properly.

It was just...an unfortunate consequence of many things put together. It didn’t mean she couldn’t feel hurt about it, but it did mean that she couldn’t let it get her down for too long.

* * *

“Uhh, Professor, could I have a hand for a moment?” They looked up from their pile of books to see Ignatz standing in front of the desk they’d reserved for themselves in the library. “It’ll only take a moment, I swear.”

Byleth nodded and stood. “What was it you needed a hand with?” they asked.

Ignatz chuckled nervously. “I just needed a bit of help reaching a book,” he admitted. “There’s a ladder, but my arms aren’t quite long enough and I didn’t want to overreach and fall off. That wouldn’t help anyone.”

“Of course,” they replied, moving over to where the ladder stood, fully extended and pushed all the way to the edge of its rail. “Which one is it?”

“The third edition of Creatures Beyond Fódlan,” Ignatz replied, pointing to a book just shy of being right in the top right hand corner of the shelf.

Easily, Byleth climbed to the top of the ladder and plucked the book from the shelves, handing it over to a smiling Ignatz before they even reached the floor. “Thank you very much, Professor!” he said. “And I really am sorry for bothering you about this. The shelves clearly weren’t designed for someone my size.”

“Do you ever wish you were taller?” they asked.

Ignatz laughed. “That’s a strange question, Professor,” he said, “but I’d be lying if I said I’d never thought about it before. An inch or two extra would certainly be convenient, but it’s not really on the cards.”

They looked at him questioningly, and he continued. “I spoke to Professor Manuela about it,” he explained. “The potions I take stimulate muscle growth, which is also-” he chuckled “-sorely needed, but actual height isn’t something you can get, even with magic. I might gain a could of centimetres, but I’ll never be tall. What about you?”

“I suppose I’d never thought about it,” they said. Height had advantages in reach, but agility was sometimes easier for smaller people. They’d never wondered what it would be like to be taller, they just worked with what they had. “I don’t think I mind.”

* * *

“You’re asking to...confess?” the priest asked. Marianne nodded. “Pardon me for saying it, young lady, but issues such as these are not grounds for any repentance to the Goddess. You do not need to trouble yourself with confession.”

“It’s not?” Marianne asked, not daring to lift her eyes from the floor. If she did, she was sure the priest would say no, of course she had to repent for her foul thoughts.

“Absolutely not,” the priest said firmly. “You may have been taught differently elsewhere, out in some locality or another, but those are not the true thoughts of either the Goddess or Saint Seiros.” Marianne hesitated, and she heard the smile in his voice as he continued. “Would you like me to tell you of the teachings on this issue?”

“I-if you don’t mind,” Marianne replied. She was tired of this being just another one of many reasons that she was terrible, awful, a monster. If it could end...maybe she didn’t deserve a reprieve, but she wanted one. “If you’re not too busy.”

“I always have time to share the teachings of the Goddess,” the priest responded. “So let me remind you about the world envisioned by Saint Seiros, in which no one comes into conflict with each other. In that world, there is no need for prejudice.”

“Forgive me, but we don’t live in a world without conflict…” Marianne nearly took her words back as soon as they left her mouth, but the priest’s response stopped her.

“We do not, young lady, you are right,” he replied. “And yet, is there anything in any of the teachings of the Goddess that suggest anything other than loving others as the best way to see a day dawn in a world of peace?”

“I suppose…” If love was the best way, then maybe she didn’t need to feel this guilt.

“You should never feel ashamed over the tender feelings you hold for another in your heart,” the priest said firmly. “Such feelings are to be nurtured, shared, so everyone can feel that happiness. This includes if those feelings are towards a woman; never forget that.”


	5. Blue Lions

“Ah, Professor. Could I bother you for a moment?” It was Dimitri, stood at the entrance to the classroom. Early, as usual, but earlier than Annette, which was unusual.

“Of course,” they said, because it was unusual to see him here without Dedue and they got the feeling that he wanted to talk about something important. “What’s the issue?”

“Please, Professor, stop me if I overstep,” he said. Slightly stiffly, he made his way over too his usual seat in the classroom.

“Naturally,” they said, and Dimitri relaxed minutely. “Though I doubt you would do any such thing, Dimitri. So please, go on.”

“Well, Professor, I wished to speak to you about- matters of the heart, I suppose,” he said. Ah. That was something they probably couldn’t help with. “I was...I made an agreement of sort with Sylvain, you see, so I-I went on a date with a woman.”

Byleth could see where this was going. His feelings ran deeper than a simple date but he had no idea how to act on it. Or maybe he realised he favoured the girl’s friend, but didn’t want to drive the two women apart. All things that had happened a hundred times before, but nothing they could help with.

“But, well, I was on the date, and I couldn’t stop thinking,” Dimitri continued, “about. Well. How I didn’t really think she was all that attractive. And how I didn’t know if I’d ever really...felt that way about a woman. But I couldn’t cut the outing short and tell her that I wasn’t interested, so, well- I stayed. Is it wrong of me, to feel that way and do nothing?”

Byleth paused for a moment. That was not the kind of dilemma they had been expecting. “I think you’re fine,” they said, and the worry on Dimitri’s face eased a little. “You didn’t know, and neither did she. In future, however…”

Dimitri looked up from his desk, a questioning look on his face. “Yes, Professor?” he asked. “Any advice you have is very much appreciated.”

“In future, if you’re going to go on a date, go with a man,” they said, “and one you find attractive. There’s no point knowing your preferences if you don’t act on them to be happy, correct?”

Dimitri’s face flushed pink, but he nodded fervently. “Thank you, Professor,” he answered. “You really have taken a weight off my mind. Talking about...these things...makes it so much clearer.”

* * *

“Do you tend to date, Dedue?” Ashe asked. Dedue looked up from his plate, which he had very determinedly been staring at to avoid contributing to the conversation Sylvain had brought to the table that evening.

Dedue had not been on a date since before the Tragedy. Since then, there had been no time, no space, no willing partner. Perhaps at the Academy things were a little different, but there was still the issue of time.

And at the same time...he thought of his first partner, if they could be described as such; they’d only been young. The affection they had felt for each other was probably not one that would have lasted into their adult lives, but it had been cut short all the same. He no longer pined after them, but when this topic came up they always crossed his mind. Did he do the same in theirs? Were they still around to remember him?

Instead of answering Ashe’s question himself, Mercedes answered for him. “I’m sure that if Dedue did date, he’d be very secretive about it,” she said. “And he definitely wouldn’t gossip about it over dinner.” Everyone laughed and nodded, saying he would probably be right to do that, and the conversation moved on. Dedue shot Mercedes a grateful smile.

“Do you date, Dedue?” Dimitri asked later. “You do not have to tell me, of course! I am not owed the information at all. I just would be interested to know. As your friend.”

“I do not,” he said. If he was being honest, he hadn’t thought about who he even might want to date lately. “There are many other things on my mind.”

“I hope you do not hold yourself apart from these things on my account,” Dimitri said, looking suddenly very concerned. “I would want you to be happy above all else, and if you ever do decide to pursue a relationship, I would support you.”

“Thank you,” Dedue replied. He didn’t need Dimitri’s permission, but it was nice to have his good wishes nonetheless. And perhaps if the time did come again that he wanted a relationship, he’d like to be able to share that happiness with Dimitri.

* * *

“Hey, uh, Mercie?” Annette asked, finally giving up on the embroidery in front of her. They’d been at it for an hour, almost, after Mercedes insisted she take a break from studying. Her side looked clumsy and awful, while Mercedes’ was fantastic, but she knew she couldn’t say that. Mercie wouldn’t accept it.

“Yes, Annie?” Mercedes replied, looking up at her. “Do you need some more thread? Your buttercups are looking lovely!”

“They’re meant to be tulips,” she said with a groan, and Mercedes laughed. “But no. I wanted to ask...how do you know if you like girls? A-as in, how did you know?”

Mercedes hummed, continuing to work on the beautiful roses on her end of the piece. Sometimes, Annette thought she could do everything. “I suppose I’ve always thought women are beautiful and wonderful,” she said, “but I think that’s separate from attraction. I think I just had a few crushes when I was younger, really. Why did you want to know?”

“Well, I.” Annette could feel a blush rushing to her cheeks already. “There’s this girl. I talk to her sometimes, and I feel like a fool a lot of the time but she makes me feel like a  _ huge  _ fool, because I always want to impress her and she’s so smart and pretty and- basically I think I really like her? But I don’t know if I like her like you like girls, and…”

“Do you need to know yet?” Mercedes asked, her voice gentle. She’d stopped sewing at some point in Annette’s rambling, favouring looking at her directly.

“Yes!” Annette said. She needed to know because she really needed to know. She wanted an answer, but... “I don’t know,” she admitted.

“Sometimes it’s better to let these sorts of things come naturally, and with time,” Mercedes said. “And you don’t have to like girls in exactly the same way that I do, you know. I’m sure we don’t have the same taste in men, given some of the boys you liked in Fhirdiad.” She giggled, and Annette buried her face in her hands. Even thinking of that was embarrassing.

“What should I do about how much I like her, then?” Annette asked. Even thinking about seeing her again made something light up inside her.

“Just be her friend,” Mercedes said, offering her an encouraging smile. “And when you work out which way you like girls, you can go from there.

* * *

“Hey Felix, could you, uh, spare a minute?” Ashe asked, doubting himself from the moment he opened his mouth as he watched Felix whirl around.

“What is it?” Felix asked. He sounded annoyed, but honestly Ashe knew by this point that he always sounded annoyed and it wasn’t anything he’d done.

“I, um, it’s a little embarrassing…” Ashe admitted. Felix raised an eyebrow. “S-so I have a date tonight, but it sort of happened as a surprise, and I put my last clean binder in with the laundry this morning and I don’t have one to wear.”

Felix frowned slightly. “Do you need mine?” he asked. Ashe nodded. “Doesn’t the person you’re going on a date with know?”

“O-oh I assume he does,” Ashe said, fiddling with a stray thread on his sleeve. “I just didn’t...I want him to see me as I want to look. Does that make sense?”

Felix nodded. “I don’t get it,” he said, “but yes, you can borrow mine.” He looked Ashe up and down. “Will it fit? You could ask Ignatz.”

“Ignatz’s is too small,” he explained. He’d asked Ignatz first, because as much as he actually quite liked Felix, he was still intimidating.

Felix nodded, and Ashe would honestly say that he looked quite...pleased? “Better too big than too small,” he said, and Ashe got the uncomfortable feeling he was being examined. “You better not wear mine if it’s too small.”

“No, of course not!” Ashe said. He’d learned that lesson a couple of years ago and he would not make the same mistake again. “Thanks for the concern, though.”

“I wasn’t concerned,” Felix said, the scowl returning.

“Of course,” Ashe said, smiling brightly back at him. Felix had definitely been concerned, but if that disrupted his tough guy act then Ashe would let him believe that he was fooling people. “Thanks though, really,” he said. “It’s good to have someone to come to about this.”

Felix shrugged. “If it means that much to you, then fine,” he said. “I’ve never felt that drive for companionship or anything similar.”

“I never said you did,” Ashe said with a smile. Felix liked to tell everyone he preferred to be alone, but he got the feeling that Felix was just as fond of having someone around who understood as Ashe was. “But if you ever need the favour returned, Felix, I’m right here.”

* * *

“Another suitor…” Ingrid put the letter aside with a sigh. She didn’t have the time, patience, or willpower to deal with another man whose affections she was probably meant to entertain.

It wasn’t like she didn’t want to help her family with their wealth problems, of course. She’d do what she could, and she knew that when the time came, perhaps she would marry. When it came down to it, though; not a moment before.

It was just that...well. She wished it could involve something other than marriage and, with it, the knowledge that her husband really wanted her Crest. That was the only thing that made her ‘worth more’ than anyone else in her family, after all.

Why couldn’t she bring wealth and prosperity to her family as a knight? Serving the royal family was nothing less than an honour, but it wouldn’t get them anything more than prestige. Prestige wouldn’t help them feed the people of Galatea, nor would it continue their bloodline to the next generation. Ingrid could follow her heart if she wished, but what would the consequences of that be?

She wished it didn’t have to be a man. She knew why she couldn’t marry a woman, but it still felt distinctly unfair. There was no room in her heart for a man other than the husband she’d never had.

“Another letter, Ingrid?” Ashe asked, snapping her out of her thoughts. She nodded. “I know it’s not exactly my place, but couldn’t you- ah- tell him the truth?” Ingrid managed a weak smile. She supposed it wasn’t as secret as to where her preferences fell.

“I could,” she said, “but then what would my father do? He’d have to choose between knowingly hurting his daughter or letting his house fall further into obscurity.” If she made the choice, then it fell to her; the decision, its consequences, and any blame that might be left over.

“Ah, I understand,” Ashe replied, a frown creeping onto his face. She opened her mouth to apologise, but he shook his head. “No, I understand. It’s a far more complicated issue than the advice I gave.”

* * *

“Sylvain, I had a...question for you.” Ingrid’s face was stern and filled with something akin to concern, but it wasn’t ‘you’re due a lecture about your no-good ways’ concern. It was something else.

“I always have time for the loveliest of-”

“Nope, you’re not worming out of this with that one,” Ingrid said. “I just wanted to talk about...Baldric, I think his name was.”

Oh. Ah. Yes. Baldric. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone called Baldric,” he lied, letting out a chuckle he hoped didn’t sound too nervous. He was nervous.

“The head of the stables in Gautier is called Baldric,” Ingrid pointed out. They both knew full well that Sylvain talked to him frequently. They also both knew that this was not the Baldric Ingrid was talking about.

“Haha, so he is!” Sylvain replied. “What did you want to say about him?”

“Not him, Sylvain,” Ingrid said. She was clearly getting towards the end of her patience. “I’m talking -  _ we’re  _ talking about the Baldric you took into town last week. The Baldric that one of the knights saw you kissing in the tavern.”

“Shit.” Yeah, shit. Fuck, even. “I mean- they saw what? Are they sure? Because I don’t know a Baldric, at least not here, and I like drinking as much as the next man, but not enough to forget a night.”

“They were beyond doubt,” Ingrid confirmed. Yeah, this had escalated from shit to fuck. “I’m not planning on telling anyone, regardless of your answer, but I’d rather hear it from you. Did you take a man called Baldric on a date last week?”

“Yeah,” he said. She knew. There was no point trying to cover it up. “Who do I need to bribe up to their eyeballs?”

“You- what- can’t this be the same as your endless stream of women?” Ingrid asked. “I’m sure no one minds. Your little flings never mean anything.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, waving his hand. Maybe it had meant something. It had felt like something. Sylvain had even bothered to remember his name. “Just can’t have it getting back home, that’s all.”

* * *

Honestly, Mercedes found all the dating going on around her a little tiresome at times. It wasn’t that she didn’t want everyone to be happy - far from it - it was that she couldn’t really join in with them.

Usually, it wasn’t much of an issue that Mercedes was a fair bit older than some of the other students. She had more life experience, yes, but normally that didn’t change much of her interactions. She could follow along with their interests and achievements just fine, and dating was the only experience where she felt in any way left out.

Mercedes liked a good date. She liked talking to a pretty woman on an early summer afternoon and walking, arms interlocked, down a forest path. She adored taking the time to have tea with a handsome young man, whiling away the hours with conversation about anything and everything.

And yes, she could maybe still do that with some of the students of the Academy. Edelgard had many years of experience to her name, Sylvain could be charming when he dropped that act of his. But most of them were so...young. Felix’s face screwed up like he was a child when someone reminded him to eat vegetables, and Petra may have experienced many things a child should not have but she was still so...young. Childish, even.

Mercedes felt it set her apart from a lot of them. For many, this was their first time away from home, their first shot at independence. For Mercedes...well, she felt this was closer to her final chance to strike out on her own, to learn who she really was.

There were many parts of herself that she understood, of course: the thrum of her heartbeat when someone precious was near, the bitter stab of rejection. But there were also experiences she knew she was yet to have, and the Academy was undoubtedly part of a journey to experience those things.

* * *

“Hey, beautiful!” Someone called from across the street. Unfortunately, Felix was almost alone - the only other person present was Dimitri, and Felix was fairly certain that no one had described the Prince of Faerghus as beautiful in years. So the man was calling to him.

He scowled. The man whooped and cheered, because apparently he had barely more than two thoughts to string together. “There’s no need to be like that, lovely lady! I’m sure you’re so pretty when you smile.”

“Felix, should I-” Dimitri started, his voice a murmur. He wasn’t sure whether to cause a scene or not. Understandable. When Dimitri had just been shy and they were just children, Felix had always craved him jumping in to defend him.

Now? “Don’t say a word,” Felix hissed. “We are going to ignore him. And we are going to keep walking.” If he was on his own, he might have hit the man, so it was probably a good job that Dimitri was here.

This had been happening more and more frequently since he arrived at the Academy. Maybe it was because he could now be identified as ‘not a child’ by his uniform, or because he wasn’t in Fraldarius where people knew him. Or maybe something had changed and he now looked like a particularly attractive woman.

He didn’t know, but it made him angry. It made him see red until he had to go back to his room and punch something where no one could see him lose control (like a  _ girl _ , because apparently only women felt things. Bullshit). Where no one could see how much it bothered him that nothing ever changed.

“Felix,” Dimitri said, once the man had given up on his jeering and gone to harass an actual woman. “Does that happen...often? I had no idea that some men could be so- foul.”

Felix thought, for a moment, about telling the truth. But this Dimitri wasn’t the earnest little boy who wanted to help but didn’t know how. This Dimitri was blood and laughter and joy in death. “No,” he lied. “It’s never happened before.”


	6. Byleth

Byleth didn’t understand attraction or romance. Honestly, they’d always felt thoroughly detached from it; it was something other people did, not them.

When emotion started to leak little by little into Byleth’s life, they’d anticipated that maybe they’d start to understand. After all, they saw a lot more romance, experienced a lot more situations that showcased what attraction could look like. It was only natural that they’d start to feel it.

But they didn’t. No matter how many emotions they felt, how many examples they saw, how many different potentially attractive people they encountered, they just didn’t feel any kind of romantic attraction to anyone.

For a while, they wondered if something was wrong with them somehow. Maybe they were misinterpreting the feelings that were so new to them, and the warmth they thought was just plain happiness was something else. Maybe they were doomed to being unable to experience like others for the rest of their life.

But then...Byleth thought of their students. The way they felt about them wasn’t romantic, wasn’t the feeling they found themself wanting to crave. It was love, but not like in a romantic storybook.

It was wanting to see them be the best they could be. Byleth wanted to see them understand, develop themselves, and most of all live fulfilling, happy lives. Seeing them smile gave them joy, thinking of their pain filled them with apprehension.

The realisation was...everything to them. After years of being unable to envision a future that involved other people, finally they could understand what family meant. They could see years stretching out ahead of them supporting all kinds of precious, wonderful students who all had so much potential to be incredible people.

Byleth loved them. That was all they needed to know.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this! If you, too, have Gay-Adjacent Thoughts about these characters, please please discuss them with me on twitter (@samariumwriting) or leave a comment.


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